


Shitty At Best

by MartinEA



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, F/F, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, Pianist!Marco, a no homo marco, all the homo jean, sort of, very gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:33:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartinEA/pseuds/MartinEA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco Bodt finds himself liking (and possibly stalking) the ace of the basketball team - Jean Kirchstein. But due to Jean's homophobic behaviour, he is forced to not interact with him, in fear of his crush getting out of hand. When school is over, he finds himself in an apartment too big for him to live in alone. He settles for putting one of his bedroom for rent, so he could have at least someone to talk to, even if that someone is a serial killer. He is surprised to see that it's not a psychopath looking for their next prey, but a walking zombie that poses as Jean Kirchstein. He lets him in and tries to pretend like he doesn't recognize him, so that he could finally be friends with the man that he had a schoolgirl crush on.</p><p>Shitty at best is a story about all the ups and downs in life. About how at one point you have everything and the next - you have nothing. It's about how at the end - everything  comes together and sorts itself out. In most cases at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How it all began

Mina looked at her brother, worrying over her lip. “Are you sure you want to pursue with music, Marco? Mom and dad won't be too pleased with that... You know with the whole “musicians can't support themselves” thing.” She looked genuinely worried, as Marco just slumped back in his chair, twisting around the straw in his cup.

 It had been a week since his graduation and the fuss over where he was going to go was tiring him out already. His little sister decided to call him up and have a private talk with him, under the façade of them just hanging out.  
“Where's my pie?” He asked pursing his lips in a pout as he held up his phone. The text on it said :

  **From** **Mina <3 (** _12:03_ _**)** _

_Starbucks?_

 With an emoji of pie next to it.

 “That's not the point, Marco. Stop avoiding the topic-” Mina said in exasperation.

 “Why would you send an emoji of pie if you aren't going to buy me pie?” Marco continued, ignoring his sister.

 The freckled girl groaned at the obvious reference and glared at him “I will buy you pie, but first answer my question. God.”

 Her brother grinned and let go of his straw to reach out and ruffle her hair, making her shriek and blush as she tried to swat him away, muttering something about ruining her hairstyle. “I will be fine, don't worry. I will make it somehow. And if I don't, you get to burn my Captain America socks.”

 She huffed, fixing her tails. “I am fine with just throwing them away.” She muttered.

 “What's so bad about them anyway? I think they are pretty cool.” Marco said, acting hurt.

 “They are not. Grow up, you've had them for years now. They are probably worn up and torn anyway.”  
“Not. I use them for only special occasions.” The brunet said, picking his cup up.

 "Like what? When you have nothing else to wear?” She snorted.

 “Weddings, formal parties... You know, the usual.” He smirked when she shoved him.  
  
 “At least you don't wear a dress, so they don't show. You disappointment for our family.” She said dramatically.

 “Thanks for coming here all the way from Shinganshina.” He said and smiled warmly at her when she was done whining about his “hideous” socks.

 She leaned back in her chair and smiled back at him softly “I was going to go and meet up with mom and dad. Going to go and reason with them.”

 Marco grinned “Can I count on you to have my back?”

 Mina grinned as well, mirroring his expression perfectly. “Only if you pay me back by helping me convince them to let me study art in three years.”

 The freckled man laughed “On it. Already preparing for their outraged faces when they hear their oldest kids would like to be artists.”

 “They still have got Beaure.” Mina pointed out.

 "Now all that's left is for him to become a writer and we will be the full pact. Speaking of,” He stood up, taking his cup with him. “Come on, let's go and buy that art book you've been pining after for so long.” He said, motioning over to his car from the window.

 Mina's eyes sparkled “Really? But what about your pie?” She frowned.

 Marco shrugged “Guess now you owe me a pie. I will get it later. Let's go.”

 Mina hugged him briefly, before jumping into a conversation about the book. Marco listened to her indulgently, even though he never asked.

 -

 After a long tiring conversation with Mina and Marco on one side and their parents on the other, they finally agreed to let Marco study music, but only if he also studied to take up the company as well if any of his siblings couldn't/didn't want to. For now they had their attention on Beaure, so they still had hope.

 “Night big brother, don't forget to tell me all about the college so I can prepare.” Mina said as she hugged him before going to bed.

 Marco chuckled “You still have time, will tell you when it's time.” He said and ruffled her hair again, this time she only huffed in annoyance. “Night.” He said when she let go and went over to his room. Which felt like too long of a walk in his parent's house.

 He slumped on the bed, taking his phone for a brief check for any messages he hadn't noticed.

 There was just one from Armin.

    **From Armin** (19:01)

**Are you really going to go to Titan uni, because Jean is going there?**

 Marco sighed at the text from his friend and typed out a reply.

 **To Armin** (21:23)

**I was drunk armin. Dont worry. Convinced my parents to let me study music.**

 He replied almost immediately.

    **From Armin** (21:24)

  **So we will be together?**

 Marco smiled at that.

    **To Armin** (21:26)

  **Yeah fancy having a study buddy with me for another several years**

    **From Armin** (21:30)

**At least I won't have to worry about making new friends.**

 Marco chuckled at that and they picked up several topics, mostly about college, before they both went to bed.

 It wasn't easy for him falling asleep, along with all of his worries about what he was going to do in the future, there was this one corner dedicated only to his crush.

 Jean Kirchstein. The ace of the basketball team. The guy easy to upset with the brash mouth and the quick to access slur registry. Whose anger could only be rivalled by Eren Jaeger's.

 He had fell in love with him in that one single moment when Armin had introduced them. He smelled sweet, unbecoming to his “manly” attitude. And his awkward grin was just so stupid and hot and...Everything was just so perfect about him.

 They had a single second of getting along, before he dropped the “f” word and everything went downhill for Marco.

 “ _Pft, did you see Thomas and Marlowe kissing next to the bleachers on the last game? Fucking faggots, shouldn't go and do it in public. It's disgusting.” He said, making a face._

  _Marco didn't know why he chose that topic. He didn't know why he had to ruin everything in just one sentence. Maybe he had sensed it. Maybe he was just trying to find something to talk about. But all it did was make Marco go pale and lose all appetite._

 “ _Hey, Marco, you okay there?_ _”_ _Jean glanced at him, cocking his head to the side in confusion. “Did you choke?” He asked, reaching over to pat him on the back._

  _Marco pulled away and stood up “I-I am fine. I am just...Going to the bathroom. No need to wait for me.” He said as he took his bag and walked away._

  _He did just that. For the rest of the lunch break. His excuse to Armin was that his stomach hurt and he excused himself from school, to avoid Jean and any questions._

  _A week after he had started avoiding Jean, it looked like he finally stopped trying to pick a conversation with him, since he sensed that Marco didn't want to talk. It hurt. But he knew it was for the best._

  _It was for the best for him to quit from the beginning so nothing would go wrong._

  _He didn't want anything to repeat. He just wanted to have a quiet life._

  _But that didn't stop him from admiring from afar. It might have been a little bit creepy, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't help the helpless fluttering of his heart and the small smile tugging on his lips whenever he thought about him._

  _That didn't escape past Armin's eyes, though._

  _And there they found themselves, on Marco's eighteenth birthday, chugging the beer that his cousin Ymir sneaked over._

  _He was getting tipsy just after he finished half of the beer, when he said to Armin._

 “ _I hate it, man. I hate it. I want- I want to be friends with him, but I can't even let myself talk with him.” He had said, curled up on the couch, while everyone else were too distracted with something else. “I am afraid. I am afraid that I would want to kiss him and hold him whenever we are too close and at one point I will slip, and-” He ran his fingers through his hair and chugged down the rest of the beer when a sudden rush of confidence ran through him like electricity._

 “ _I am going to go and study with him. I am going to become friends with him and whatever shall happen I don't care. I just want to be with him...”_

  _Armin had just stroked his back and nodded “If you want, we can talk about it when you are sober...But I don't think this is such a good idea-”_

  _Marco shook his head“I am going.” He said, with a voice that was too sure for him even._

 And two beers after, he was too busy throwing up and they left the topic at that.

 He wished that he could really do what he said he will. He wished that he could be as sure as he was then. But it couldn't happen and soon, he just gave up. Hoping that with time, his heart would stop beating so fast for him and he would be able to keep his expression blank at the mention of his name.

 Hoping one day he would be able to say “Oh, what about Jean?” With his voice being even and palms not clamming.

 He was sure that he was fine now. That he was cured from his small crush. He said his name with no hesitance and his heart kept its natural rhythm.

 But was he really done with him?

 

 


	2. It Just Had To Be Him

 Marco traced the keys on his piano lightly with his fingertips. College felt like a long distant memory, but it had only been a year. It felt like he graduated and got his diploma years ago. Though it _had_ been a long time since he last talked to Armin or anyone else from his friends.

 Not like he didn't have time, he just didn't feel like socializing with anyone when he was in the middle of writing a piece. And he was in the middle of writing one _particular_ piece.

 It was still a secret to everyone, but he planned on that being his breakthrough.

 He sighed.

 It _would_ have been a breakthrough if he actually put anything solid on his sheet music, not just scribble something and then cross it. Of course, he didn't like wasting paper, so he filled the whole sheet with crossed out notes, before he threw it away.

 He was working at a bar for meantime. It was nothing special, just a small bar down town held by a cute couple in their early thirties. He enjoyed playing there and that was all that mattered to him.

 When he was done with scribbling and scattering crossed sheets around, he stood up and cracked his back. He reached for his box of cigarettes and lighter, and went outside on the balcony to light one up.

 He leaned on the fence and lit it up, putting his hand over the flame to shield it from the wind. When it lit up he took a deep breath and let it down, looking down at the street in front of him.

 It was so quiet and peaceful. The only sound was the rustling of the leaves and the song that Marco was humming to himself.

 He slumped down on one of the chairs and glanced at his apartment. It was too quiet for him now. He usually had his TV on even if he didn't watch it, just to have something to distract him from the loneliness. But he turned it off whenever he was working. Now that no sound was present, he had nothing to distract him.

 He had even considered selling that apartment and buying a smaller one on the loudest part of town.

But if he did, his parents would've been mad. They gave him that apartment as a present for his birthday and also as means of using when arguing with him and point out that everything he has comes from them and he needs to listen to them.

 Maybe he needed a pet...Something to fill up the silence and make him company. But he scratched that idea as well, since he couldn't even take care of himself properly. The closest thing he had to a pet were the tulips he was taking care of on the fence of the balcony. He liked to talk to them and pretend like they can hear him. But he knew that he looked ridiculous, so he did it only when there was no one around to hear him.

 Like right now.

 “Do you think that I should get a room mate, Rose?” He asked one of the flowers. “Or is it too dangerous? You know what? I don't care. I am getting a room mate. Thanks, Rose. By the way, remind me to water you.” Yes. He named one of his tulips Rose. Isn't so different from naming your cat Whiskers.

  He got up and went over to his laptop, turning on the TV on the way there.

 Now that something was buzzing in the background, he could finally be at ease. He quickly posted an ad for his extra bedroom and just went by with his daily rituals. Such as laying face down on the couch and listening to the humming of the TV in the background.

 - 

 Soon from morning, it became noon and he was getting ready to go to the bar.

 It seemed to be a slow night for a Saturday, as he made his way over to the bar and greet the short man behind it with a smile.

 

 “Hi, Levi. Where's Erwin?” He looked around.

 

 “Brat, you are ten minutes late. Make sure you come on time or I won't even let you in here. Also clean your boots or try not to step in mud. You left dirty foot prints again.” The black haired male grunted in reply ”He's cleaning the tables in the back.” He motioned over to the tall blond man, who was wiping the tables with a rag. One of his arms was missing, but he was moving so swiftly, as if that was no bother for him. Marco always admired him for that, when he felt like he had two left hands and feet, and was always stumbling around, knocking everything down.

 

 Levi looked down at the cups he was drying up and with that the conversation was done.

 

 Marco walked over to the piano and took off his jacket, hanging it up on the rack. He sat down on the stool in front of the piano.

 

 “Is Annie coming to sing today?” He called over to Levi again, the latter looking up in annoyance at being disturbed.

 “Yes.” He said again, looking like he wasn't in the mood for small talk.

 Marco shifted again, making himself comfortable, as he tested few of the keys, as if testing out the waters before diving in.

 Then he slowly started playing “Piano man”, smiling to himself, because that always made up his mood.

_I_ _t's nine o'clock on a Saturday,_

_The regular crowd shuffles in-_

 He sang the first few parts of the song to himself, then raised his voice louder. He didn't hear more people coming into the bar, nor the person walking over to him and joining him in a duet.

    _He said son, can you play me a memory?_

_I am not really sure how it goes-_

 When he was done, he ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at the person leaning over the piano.

 A blonde woman with icy blue eyes and a hard gaze. “Nice voice you have there, Bodt. You ought to wonder why you don't use it at all.” She said and Marco blushed, realizing that he had just sang through the whole song.

 “I don't really like to- Plus that's your part.” He laughed softly and rubbed his finger under his nose.

 She tucked a hair behind her ear and glanced at Levi, who was quietly humming the song they just sang. That made Marco smile as he turned back to the piano. “Any preference as to what the next song should be?” he asked her, cracking his knuckles.

 “Might have an idea -” Annie leaned closer and suggested a song, making Marco grin.

 -

 Soon the night went by and they watched as the bar got filled up, only for the patrons to slowly disappear one by one.

 Soon the place completely cleared out and it was time for closing. Marco ran his hand through his hair, grinning like a madman. Nothing pumped him up more than playing the songs that the audiences suggest and accepting challenges on how fast he can play them.

 Sometimes he felt like that was all he needed in life and he could die happily just playing there for the rest of his days.

 Annie brushed her bangs off her face, leaning on the piano, tired. She was also the kind to take up challenges for tips.

 Levi turned over to them “Want a drink?” He asked and they both nodded as they sat down in front of the counter.

 Annie looked up at Marco “Oh, yeah, what happened about that song you were bragging about? What did you say again? Grand and amazing. My biggest breakthrough.” She said, taking out a cigarette out of her purse, before Levi snatched it from her fingers, grunting something about her going outside and poisoning the people outside, not him as he snapped it in two. She glared daggers at him, as Levi did the same. His glare over ruling hers in the end as she turned away, clicking her tongue.

 Marco blushed “I didn't brag- I just briefly mentioned it...” He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

 Levi snorted “It's all you've been blabbing about for the past few months, kid. Don't play humble now.” He said, leaning on the counter.

 “So did you finish it?” Annie asked, leaning on her hand, taking a shot of her vodka.

 Marco fidgeted “I...Scrapped it.” He said simply, shrugging as he let his hand fall down in his lap.

 Annie stared at him, unamused “You worked on it for months. And you scrapped it.”

 He laughed awkwardly “Ah yeah,” He cleared his throat “It didn't really...turn out as good as it was supposed to be...So now I am writing it anew.”

 Levi scowled “You let me judge it whether it's good or bad, brat. You know what?” He put the rag down and picked up his own cup with whiskey “You play it here. Let the patrons judge.”

 Marco licked his lips “It's really not worthy enough for me to play it...”

 Levi raised his eyebrow at him “Says the brat who had the customers clapping and cheering like crazy after you played your first piece. Shut up and bring it here on Tuesday.”

 Marco nodded and gave Levi a small shy smile “Alright, I will.”

- 

 Annie finished off her drink and stood up. “Well, I am taking off, Levi. Will come for Bodt's performance this time.”

 The freckled man blushed “You don't have to if you don't have time, I mean, I can play it for you when you come some other time, Annie.”

 She slid her jacket on and turned to him from over her shoulder “I was coming on Tuesday anyway.”

 Levi nodded “Make sure you come on time.” And with that the conversation was over.

 Marco stood up as well “Guess I will be going as well.” He said as he took his own jacket and caught up to Annie. “Good night Levi, Erwin!” They both walked out.

 Annie glanced up at him, then looked away again, as she took a long drag of her cigarette. She offered him one and he took it gladly.

 “How's the work at the restaurant going?” He asked after some time.

 “Exhausting.” She said simply.

 He rubbed his nose and looked down at her “You know that you can ask if you have trouble with anything, right?”

 She looked up at him “Thank you, Marco, but I am fine. There's never been anything I wasn't able to do on my own.”

 He nodded “Still-” She cut him off by staring up at him, with a look saying “the conversation is done”.

 He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

 Soon they found themselves in front of his apartment. He nodded towards his car “Want me to drive you home?”

 Annie shook her head “I will take the bus.”

 “But it's really late-”

 “Good night Marco.” She said and made her way down the street. Marco sighed and nodded in defeat.

“Night, Annie.” He said and smiled, more to himself than anything. She was always so stubborn, never liked to owe anybody anything. But he guessed that if she did, she won't be Annie.

- 

“I am home.” Marco said to the empty apartment when he walked in. When he entered the living room he noticed that he had left the TV on. He turned the lights on, turning the TV off.

 His phone ringing startled him as he fumbled through the pockets of his jacket.

 He saw that it was an unknown number and was prepared to apologize, because it wasn't the person they were looking for. It happened a lot lately for some reason.

 “Uh, hey, I am sorry for calling in so late, it's for your ad on craigslist,” Marco blinked. _So fast?_ He hadn't expected to get a call for a few days. “I hope it's not too late.” The person's voice was rough

and it sounded like he hadn't used it a lot.

 “No no, you are actually the first one to call.” Marco said, trying to figure out if he was a psychopathic killer or not. “If you want we can meet up somewhere to-”

 “How's Petra's coffee shop?” The guy cut him off, impatient for some reason.

 “Oh, alright then. Petra's it is, when are you-” Marco blinked.

 “One pm is fine.”

 “Can I have your name?” He asked, sitting down on the couch.

 “Jean Kirchstein.” Marco's heart dropped. _It can't be...No that's just impossible._

 He swallowed thickly _“_ Marco Bodt. I will be waiting. _”_

 “So, see you tomorrow, Marco?”

 “Yeah. Good night for now.” He said and looked down at his phone for a long time when he hung up.

  _It can't be Jean. There are lots of people with the name Jean Kirchstein, right?_

 He rubbed his face.

  _Fate is a bitch._

 


	3. Don't Make Me Go Throuh This Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to meet Jean. Marco is more than a little gay for him.

 Marco spent the whole night, biting his nails under the blankets and overthinking the whole situation. So the next morning he looked like hell. Well, it was almost noon when he woke up from his three hour nap he called sleep, so you can't really say next morning.

 He anxiously waited for the clock to hit 1 pm. In the end he couldn't wait that long so he jumped in his car and drove over to Petra's. He didn't want to wait in the café like a creep, so he settled for waiting for Jean to turn up.

 An hour of waiting went by and it was finally the time for their meeting, but there was still no trace of Jean.

 Marco sighed and decided that it was time for him to go in. When he entered the almost empty café, he noticed that Jean had already been in there the whole time. He looked nervous, his leg shaking up and down as he looked around, searching for the person who posed himself as Marco Bodt. He was wearing a worn out red beanie over his head, the same one he had in high-school, Marco noticed, and a sweater that looked too big on his skinny body.

 The brunet sat down in front of him and saw how Jean's expression turned from wary to bewildered. He scowled at him, making Marco fidget.

 “Uh, Jean Kirchstein, right?” He extended his hand.

 The blond blinked, trying to process what he just said to him and realization hit him. He sighed heavily in relief as he took it and nodded.

 “I thought you were one of the creeps who advertise their shit by sitting down on people's tables and forcing them to buy.” He said and ran his fingers through his hair, grinning weakly at him.

  _He grew out his hair..._ Marco thought to himself, staring at him. _He still smells the same...Honey and caramel..._

 He suddenly jolted upright when he realized he said something and chuckled nervously “Oh...Sorry. I guess it was rude for me to just sit down on your table like that.”

 Jean waved his hand in dismissal. “Nah, I guess it was obvious that it would be you." He said and Marco nodded slowly, still not able to take his eyes off of him. 

 "So..I guess we should start with the questions.” Jean said, raising his eyebrow.

 Marco blinked and nodded “Sorry. R-Right. Ah, why are you moving out?” He asked.

 Jean was taken aback by the question and ran his fingers through his hair. He licked his lips. “I wanted a change of scenery...” He said simply.

 Marco frowned. _A lie from the start?_   “I am sorry, but I need you to be honest for this one.”

 The blond rubbed his eyes “Why would you think that that is a lie?”

 “I am not stupid. Just tell me the reason, the more you stay quiet the more I have a reason to be suspicious.”

 Jean sighed, taking off his beanie to run his fingers through his hair “My landlord is kicking me out. Gave me a week to move out.” He said quietly.

 When he saw the look on Marco's face he quickly added “I wasn't doing anything illegal, I swear!”

 Marco raised his eyebrows “Then why is he kicking you out?”

 Jean rubbed his face “I would rather...Not talk about it...It's personal...”

 The freckled man sighed. _Well things are going great right from the start...Okay fine, I guess I will have to trust him for now and ask him later._  “Alright...Then...What is your job? You do have a job, right?”

 Jean frowned “Yeah, I do. I am a waiter at restaurant Maria. You can check it out if you don't believe me.”

 Marco blinked, then he waved his hands “No no! I didn't mean it like that- God, I am so sorry!” _Wait? Restaurant Maria? That's where Annie works..._

 Jean sighed “No, I am sorry...It's my fault for raising suspicions.”

 Marco frowned sadly “I just needed to know if you would be able to pay the rent without any trouble...”

 The blond snorted “Even a person, who works at McDonald's would be able to pay the rent. Which begs the question – Why is it so low? The room looked really good. So much so, that it looked kind of suspicious.”

 Marco rubbed the back of his neck “Well, it's because I am not renting it for the money. I am doing it for the company. Turns out living alone makes you lonely.” Marco said, grinning awkwardly.

 Jean raised his eyebrow, taking a sip of his now cold coffee. He made a face at the taste. “That's what a girlfriend is for, dude.”

 He blushed “I am not looking for a relationship, just for someone who can make me company. And someone who can keep care of himself on his own.”

 The blond grinned “I will try the company thing, but I make no promises.”

 Marco smiled softly, feeling his heart flutter at his grin.

  _Oh God no...Jean stop it. Stop reminding me of old memories. Why haven't you changed?_

 “Any other questions?” Jean asked, leaning back.

 Marco blinked. “O-Oh. One last one. Do you have any pets?”

 The other man shook his head “Nah, I don't really have the time to take care of one.”

 The freckled man nodded “Well, I guess this is it. And the rules.”

 Jean had a bored look on his face, which made Marco chuckle “They are just two – No making a mess and if you are bringing a date over, tell me in advance, so I get out.”

 “No need to worry about the second thing.” He grinned. “I mean, I do look like a ladiesman, I know-”

 Marco shrugged, smiling “I just had to lie the rules down. Which aren't much of rules. More like requests, that I know that you are going to not follow, but I tried.” _He's single. Yes._

_Wait why am I happy?_

 “When can you move in?” Marco asked and Jean looked at him, confused, but happy.

 “Seriously? How is next Tuesday?” He asked, radiating.

 “I first need to show you the room, though.” The freckled man chuckled.

 -

 “ _Let me get this straight-_ ” Ymir said, her voice booming from Marco's phone “ _The guy, whose ass you've been pining after for years now, is moving in with you._ ”

 When Marco showed him the apartment and the room that would be his, Jean's jaw couldn't drop lower.

_Seriously, where are the skeletons? This is too good to be true._

 Marco couldn't help but grin at his childlike enthusiasm. But he did try and stop himself from kissing the excitement off his face. He looked too cute to be real.

 Which was again, Marco's problem. He didn't know how would he stop himself from falling in love with him again.

 “Yes.” Marco nodded.

 “ _And you are complaining?_ ” She said, incredulously. “ _I am sorry to say this, but my cousin is a dumbass._ ”

 “Ymir, you are not helping.” He sighed.

 “ _Because I don't see the problem here – Just bend him over a table and fuck him until he doesn't remember his name._ ”

 Marco blushed “We both know I can't do that – He's straight.”

 “ _Oh yeah? And how do you know?”_

 “He liked Mikasa.” Marco said, frowning

 “ _Okay, that's heteronormalism. Ask Christa. She knows all about that it.”_

 “You mean heteronormativity.”

 “ _Same thing. And that just means that you are a homophobe, Marco. Do you want to be a homophobe,_ _Marco_ _?_ ”

 "Ymir wha-”

 “ _If my cousin doesn't want to be a homophobe, he better bend that Jean dude over a table and fuck him._ ” She concluded and Marco could just feel the smirk in her voice.

 He was about to hang up on her abruptly, when he heard the doorbell ring.

 “Okay, Ymir, I have to go. He arrived.” 

 “ _Go get 'em two-toned booties, tiger-_ ”

 He huffed and stood up, throwing his phone away.

 He opened the door, only to see Jean with about a dozen boxes around him.

 “Oh, woah. Did you bring your whole flat in these?” Marco asked, picking four up and taking them inside.

 “Hello to you too.” Jean grunted as he took the rest inside. He looked like he hadn't had his coffee yet, even though it was already 4 pm. 

“Rough talk with the landlord?” Marco asked, looking at his face closely.

 “Not really. I just gave him the money for the rest of the month and walked out. He didn't say anything.” That was obviously a lie, but Marco didn't press further.

 “Are you done with everything?” The brunet asked and Jean nodded.

 “Pretty much.” He said and looked around.

 “How does a cup of coffee sound?” Marco smiled softly at him.

 “Perfect.” Jean gave him a weak grin as Marco handed him the mug. “Thank God I am moving in with a freckled Jesus.” 

Marco blushed, rubbing the back of his neck “Oh, come on. I haven't really done anything that nice.”

 “You took my shady ass in and gave me a cup of coffee. Honestly that's all I need.”

 “N-need help with bringing your stuff in?” Marco changed the topic, before his face got even redder.

 Jean shook his head, setting his mug down to stretch. “Nah, I am going to do it tomorrow. Want to do something together until then, Freckles?”

  _Freckles...?_

 “Sure!” He said, almost too excited about it. “Like what?”

 Jean shuffled through one of the boxes, which was labelled just “Stuff #2” in his boxy handwriting.

Just then he pulled out a game controller and a game.

 “How does Mario Cart sound?”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that took way too long to write. And that's just because I am a lazy ass... ^v^''


	4. From The Other Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see what got Jean to look for an apartment in the first place and explain his suspicious behaviour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - violent switching of point of view

“ _What do you think you are doing?_ _”_ The landlord had yelled at him and the guy he picked up at the bar. _“This isn't some gay bar, young man! I would like your partner here to leave and for you to pack up your bags.”_

 Jean was outraged. _“Are you kicking me out?”_ The guy, whose name he didn't really care enough to remember, quietly fixed his shirt and told Jean, that he was just going to go home.

 “ _This building is in the place of a past church. This is the lord's ground. I can't let a gay man live on this territory._ _”_

 “ _Okay that's just some cowardly bullshit! Don't hide behind your religion, just tell me that you are repelled you fucking bastard!”_ Jean yelled, clenching his fists.

 His landlord fidgeted, before he turned his back on him. _“You better find somewhere else to live in a month.”_ He had said and walked off just like that, leaving Jean bewildered.

 He used to be nice to him, always asking if Jean needed help with anything. Is that what he was really like?

 He really shouldn't have trusted him.

 “ _Don't come back home, until you change your lifestyle. No son of ours is going to be a fag.”_ His father had told him when he came out to his family after he dropped out of college. They had made him engineering, even though he didn't even want to have to do anything with that. He just didn't want to do something that he was unhappy with for the rest of his miserable life.

 But now he had nowhere to go.

 And where was he supposed to go? Find some other place, only to be kicked out again?

 He didn't have much chance. But after several unsuccessful tries of moving in somewhere else, he was starting to lose hope.

 It shouldn't have been hard. He should have been at least able of getting some shitty apartment.

 But he knew that he looked shady and not trustworthy. He couldn't blame the people for not wanting him. Hell, he didn't even want himself at the moment.

 His hopes were almost restored when he found a guy that wasn't a complete jackass to him just after he heard his voice.

 Marco Bodt... That name certainly was familiar to Jean, but he couldn't quite remember who it was.

 Or he couldn't, until he saw him again. The sunkissed freckles, the hair parted in the middle and that sweet sunny smile Jean liked about him.

 It was the same Marco that he was introduced to by Armin. The same Marco, that he took a liking on the moment he met him, but fucked up their possible friendship somehow and drove him away.

 He remembered that moment clearly now. He was a nervous wreck, couldn't stop blushing and had to stop himself from staring at him for too long. He just didn't want Marco to find him repelling. He was the one person Jean didn't want to upset in any way.

 But the moment he opened his mouth and tried picking a topic he ruined everything, He didn't even know why he had to make a comment on the only gay couple in his school, he was just on auto-pilot while he was too busy counting the freckles on his face and neck.

 Long story short – Marco started avoiding him and Jean felt like a piece of shit. But he could always spot him from the corner of his eye staring at him.

 It could've also been wishful thinking on Jean's part, since he was stuck staring at Marco when he couldn't see him.

 He found himself falling head over heels for him somewhere in the middle of him admiring him. He was just too sweet and saint like. He was everything Jean ever needed.

At the end of High-School he found himself even considering going to the same college as him, but he was forced to drop that idea as soon as he considered it.

He felt bad for forgetting him until now. He didn't want to forget him, but in the middle of him getting depressed and trying to gather the strength to go to his classes, Marco was repressed by other thoughts.  
  
But him forgetting him might have also been good for him, since he wouldn't be able to handle so many regrets at once.

Seeing him again just gave back the feeling of his nervousness, trying to be liked by him and not despised again.

Marco didn't seem to remember him, so he tried his best to make things right with him. At least this time. Even for a little while, he wanted to see what it would be like to make him give him that bright sunny smile.

 Surprisingly, mr. Freckleface didn't seem to think that he was as shady as Jean himself thought he was and actually let him in.

 He was happy until he realized that he would have to talk with his landlord again.

 “ _Here's the money for the rest of the month._ ” Jean had said, offering him the envelope.

 The man looked down at it briefly, before looking up back at the blond _“I can't accept those money.”_

 “ _Why?”_ Jean asked, as calmly as he could.

 “ _They've been stained.”_  
“ _With what? I've earned them with hard work, you old fart!_ _”_ He was close to his breaking point, his nostrils flaring. He had had enough of his bullshit.

 “ _You can't expect me to take money form a homosexual-_ _”_

 That was it. That was all Jean needed, before he threw the money at the ground and swung his fist forward. What he didn't expect were someone's hands wrapping around him and stopping him from hitting the old fucker.

 “ _What the fuck-_ ” He turned around and saw Eren's annoying face.

 “ _What the hell is wrong with you, man? Why are you about to punch an old man?”_ Eren raised his eyebrow.

 The old man in question fixed his shirt and slowly turned around, going back down the hallway from where he came from, pretending that nothing happened before that.

 “ _None of your business, Jaeger.”_ Jean groaned, his fists balling.

 “ _What's with all those boxes? You moving?_ ” Eren asked, ignoring him.

 “ _Yes. Yes I am. Why are you here?_ ” He sighed, letting his hands fall limp to his sides. He was kind of glad Eren stopped him before things got out of hand.

 Eren gestured vaguely at Jean _“That whole asshole attitude is what brought me here. You haven't talked to us in weeks, man. We were getting worried about you, but I guess you were too busy hitting the elders to hang out with us.”_

 “ _Look, I don't want to talk about it right now...”_ Jean knelt down to pick up the envelope, putting it back in his pocket.

 “ _What? Did the landlord kick you out, because he couldn't stand looking at your horseface every day?_ ” Eren snickered at his own joke, grinning like an idiot.

 Jean snorted “ _Wish it was that... He would have a valid reason at least..._ ” He sighed in irritation and picked up the box.

 “ _What's wrong?_ ” His friend asked him.

 Jean rubbed his face. He really did want to vent to someone, but not in that place. He already felt like he was suffocating and his father wasn't even with him. “ _Can we not talk here? Let's go somewhere else.”_

 Eren nodded _“Sure, how about that bar, Colossal? Levi said the pianist there will be playing something he wrote.”_  

“ _Dude, what's your obsession with that place?_ ” Jean asked as he picked up one of the boxes to take it down to the truck.

 “ _You've never been there to know.”_ Eren said, grinning his idiotic smile again. He looked like he was going to count down every single reason for him liking it, but Jean didn't want to listen to a monologue he didn't ask for.

 “ _It's because of that Levi guy, right?”_ He asked.

 “ _Okay, that's part of the reason._ ” When he saw the smirk on Jean's face, Eren blushed “ _He's just cool, alright?_ ”

 " _Okay, fine fine. Just keep your weird fantasies away from me._ ” Jean said and shoved another box in Eren's arms, motioning over to the stairs.

 “ _H-hey! He's taken anyway..._ ” Eren mumbled.

 “ _Oh, what? So you did have a crush on him?”_ Jean raised his eyebrow.

 “ _I was eight, okay? He used to babysit me and Mikasa...”_ He said, looking down at the box as he went downstairs.

 “ _From the way you described him to me, I am sure he would seem cool only to a first grader._ ” Jean snorted.

 “ _So Colossal?_ ” Eren picked off from where they left off, ignoring Jean's last remark on purpose. “ _You better be there at nine._ ”

 “ _Yeah, okay. I am down. Just help me load the last ones._ ” Jean called over his shoulder.

 Eren was decent enough to help him with putting the boxes in the moving truck in total silence, before they parted with Eren reminding him once again to come, so Jean won't forget.

 “ _You better come or I will track your new place down and drag you over there myself.”_

 “ _Just go, you idiot. I don't have a short term memory.”_ Jean rolled his eyes, but wasn't as annoyed as he pretended to be.

 Eren finally left him alone with his thoughts and he could finally breathe as he drove over to Marco's house. To say that he was happy to finally live with his High-School crush would be an understatement. But as he patted the pocket with the money, he found his mood sinking down again. He balled his fists once again, which probably set off the driver, because he cautiously asked him if he was alright. Jean just shook his head and told him that he was fine, forcing on a smile.

 He paid the driver and jumped off, once again unloading the godforsaken boxes, leaving him curse himself for not throwing half of the stuff in there away.

 What did make his mood up was the sight of his new freckled roommate and the coffee that he handed him with that adorable smile. His hair was dishevelled, Jean noted as he observed him silently.

 He snapped back when he realized Marco asked him a question “Need help bringing your stuff in?”

 “Nah, I am going to do it tomorrow. Want to do something together until then, Freckles?” Jean grinned as he pulled out his game controller along with Mario Cart.

-

 “You said you never played!” Jean exclaimed, shoving Marco, trying to bring him offbalance.

 The freckled bastard stayed in one place, not budging “I didn't lie. You are just bad.” He grinned deviously. Jean made the mistake of turning to him as he said that and getting lost in his scenarios where he could make that face, to realize that he was losing.

 When the game was over Marco turned to him, eyebrow raised, that same smirk still on his face. He poked his tongue through his teeth “You got beaten by a noob.”

 That snapped Jean out of his trance as he looked at the screen “Awh, come on! I almost had you!” He groaned.

 “Because you were cheating.” Marco chuckled and put the controller down. He suddenly looked at the clock and stood up “Oh God, how long have we been playing?”

 Jean shrugged “I needed to win.”

 Freckles stood up and stumbled to his room, walking out in a hurry while he was sliding his suspenders on. _Suspenders? Seriously? Why do I find that strangely attractive?_ “Sorry, I have to go to work-” He said, almost tripping in his own feet.

 “Ah, alright. See you later then?” Jean asked, a little bummed for having his time with him being cut off.

 "Yeah!” Marco called from the door, running outside.

 Jean leaned back in the couch and when he realized there still was an hour to his meeting with Eren, he decided to put away the boxes in his room, before he let his mind wander.

 

 

 


	5. A Reminder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean reunites with an old friend and is reminded of even older memories.

 After he was done with putting the boxes away he realized it was time for him to go to that bar Eren liked so much. He hadn't gone there in a year, so he hoped that the place didn't magically change its place.

 Fortunately it hadn't and he spotted Eren sitting as close as he could to the counter, so he could stare at the short barman.

 “Do you come by here often?” Jean grinned as he slid into the seat in front of him.

 “As a matter of fact I do.” Eren grinned, finally turning to him. “So you actually chose to show up.”

 “Didn't have anything else to do.” He said as he picked up Eren's beer.

 “Hey! Go get your own, asshole!” Eren exclaimed, taking the mug from Jean rather forcefully, making him pout.

 “I don't want to go and socialize with the barman. And frankly he looks like he doesn't want it as well.” The blond said, motioning with his head over to a rather pissed off looking Levi, glaring at the empty air.

 "Nah, that's his excited face.” Eren said wistfully.

 “How the hell did you get that?” Jean raised his eyebrows.

 “Oh, you get used to it with time. When he's excited his lip slightly quirks up. And when he's happy-”

 “I got the point.” Jean cut him off, before he could pull out a chart of Levi's expressions. “Now can you go and order me a beer? Because I really am not up to socializing with tiny angry men.” Eren was up before he even got the chance to finish his sentence.

 “I can't help it if you are lazy. Gotta help buddies in need.” Eren laughed and patted Jean's back on his way over to the counter. He turned around to watch as he grinned awkwardly down at Levi. The latter didn't seem impressed by whatever Eren was saying as he basically shoved the bottle in his hand. But what caught his eye was the person who was playing the piano.

  _Wait...Is that Marco?_

 He almost couldn't recognize him. Something about his appearance had changed. He was so calm and controlled, his fingers moving swiftly, no hesitation in his actions. The normal nervousness in his eyes was replaced by a warm and fond look, his lips forming into silent lyrics he was silently singing to himself.

 And that song...It was nothing that Jean had heard before...In the beginning it sounded like falling raindrops, soft and a little...melancholic. Then it picked its pace a bit, almost sounding like a person's emotions overflowing after keeping them for so long. He felt like he had just lost the most important person in his life and he was finally letting himself express his sadness, his anger, his fear. Everything bursting out of him in a flash. Finally, the song ended with the same notes, that rather than raindrops, now felt like tear drops to Jean.

 He hadn't realized his fists were balled on the table, a small tear falling down his cheek. He looked up to see Eren, who was looking down at the table, his eyes empty. He only snapped his head up when he realized that the song was over.

 Jean quickly wiped the tear away, looking up at Eren, who did the same.

 He could hear the people around him clapping and encouraging Marco to play it one more time, but Marco refused, saying it wasn't finished.

  _What? He needs more?_

 After a moment of silence, Jean finally spoke up.

“Was that...The song?” He asked quietly.

 Eren nodded “It was...” He trailed off, searching for the right words.

  _Nostalgic..._ “Weird.” Jean finished for him.

 His friend huffed “Your face is what's weird. It was nice.”

 “It was depressing.” The blond muttered. He didn't like listening to sad music, it did nothing for him. Whenever he was dragged to classical music concerts, he had to force himself to feel anything, as he watched all the people around him wipe their eyes and sniffle.

 Then what was it with this one particular piece that made him feel like he was standing in front of his only friend's grave. Like he was standing in front of...Marco's grave.

 He ran his fingers through his hair. Why Marco's grave? Why did that thought even occur to him?

 He felt like this wasn't just a random thought,though, but a long distant memory. A memory of...Marco dying?

 Before he could dwell on it long enough, Eren snapped his attention back to him.

 "So what's been up with you?” He asked, the sadness in his eyes wearing off.

 “Oh you know...Work...Stress from moving around... The usual.” Jean replied, finally taking a sip form his beer.

 “And all of that made you want to punch your landlord?” Eren asked, raising his eyebrow.

 “His face annoyed me.” He said looking away.

 “Your face is what annoys.”

 “Make a lot of jokes about my face, will you?” He huffed.

 “Stop avoiding the question, Kirchstein. I am not dumb.” He sighed. “I didn't take you out just so we can chit-chat.”

 Jean looked down at the wooden table “Things have just...Been going to shit lately...” He said, his shoulders sinking.

 Eren nodded, waiting for an explanation.

 The blond rubbed his temples. “That old fart turned out to be a...” He clicked his tongue “Homophobe...” He said quietly.

 Eren blinked in confusion, staring at him blankly, until he got it. “Wait...So he kicked you out, because you like dick?”

 “Yes, Eren. Can you say it louder? I don't think the people on the street heard you.” Jean groaned.

 The brunet ignored him and balled his fists on his own accord “What the fuck kind of reason is that?!” He exclaimed. “He doesn't have the right to-” Jean reached over the table to put his hand on his mouth, shushing him. A few people turned to them, curious.

 “I know, I was furious too. But now I am just bitter about it, don't go around making a scene.” Jean sighed. High-School Jean would've laughed if someone were to tell him that he would be the one calming Eren down years later.

 Eren took Jean's hand away from his mouth “I shouldn't have stopped you! You were good on your own giving that fucker a piece of your mind!” He scowled.

 “Just let it go. Let him have his own hetero party.” He scoffed. “At least I am done with him.”

 Eren's face softened “Did he say anything to you? Because I swear to God if he did-”

 “Just called me a fag.” Jean shrugged.

 “I will bash his face in the fuckin-” Eren riled up again.

 “Dude, just leave it be. I don't want to get you in any more trouble.”

 “Aw, please. Punching the coach was just the start.” He grinned at him.

 “And you got kicked out of the team. Stop ruining your life because of me, man, it's not worth it.” Jean rubbed his temples. He sometimes thought that Eren was a blessing _and a curse._ He didn't know when that guy was going to go and sacrifice everything for him. Jean wasn't worth any risk and yet Eren was always there, that stupid grin on his face even when his nose was bleeding and he looked like he was about to faint. “What did I do to deserve a suicidal bastard such as yourself?” He sighed dramatically.

 “You mean – Oh, Eren you are a gift from the Gods can I kiss you and then buy you two beers?” Eren corrected him.

 The blond put his hand up “I will pass on the kiss. But I might consider the beers.”

 Eren pursed his lips “You sure you want to pass this opportunity of kissing this handsome saint?”

 Jean snorted, standing up “I am good.” He said and walked over to Levi, getting a good look of Marco's profile. He looked so absorbed into the music, that he wouldn't even see him if he stood right in front of him.

 “What is it going to be?” Levi's voice snapped him back.

 “Two beers.” He said quickly. He was amazed by how threatening he looked even when he barely reached his chest. Tiny angry man-

 “Here.” He slid the two bottles over to him. But before Jean was able to take them quickly and skid off, Levi glared at him and said “Don't get pissdrunk, kid. I don't want to be mopping your underage ass off the floor.”

  _Wait underage?_

 “I-I am 25, sir.” He stammered.

 Levi only grunted in reply and looked away.

  _Was he seriously about to sell alcohol to a person who looked like he wasn't even at a legal age?_

 Jean sat back down and looked at Eren seriously “Do I look like a teenager?”

 “Like a sleep deprived teenager, who just got high after getting hit by a truck.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why?”

 “I am seriously considering changing your contact name in my phone from 'dicklord' to 'pure jackass from satan's asshole'.”

 “Oh I am hurt.” Eren deadpanned. “Did Levi tell you to fuck off and come back when you aren't going to puke all over his bar?”

 “No he just handed it out to me and called my butt underage. What? Did he say that to you?” He looked at Eren and snickered.

 He blushed “He only let me come in when I hit 18.” He muttered.

 “Couldn't imagine your struggle.” He teased him, snickering when Eren shot him a glare.

- 

They spent several hours like that, teasing each other and talking about what happened in the times that they weren't together. Jean found himself finally unwinding after months of curling himself up on the couch and having mental break downs. He had to thank Eren, because that's what he needed. And if he hadn't gotten it, he might have been close to cracking. Turns out he needed to let out some steam and just forget about the mess that his life had become.

 As people slowly started to leave, he figured it was about time for him to get up as well.

 “Thanks Eren.” He said and reached for his coat.

 The brunted blinked “For what? For making you go out after not seeing the daylight in months? Well, next time I can take you out to go jogging.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

 Jean huffed “In your dreams am I waking up that early. But seriously, thank you. I needed this.” He said and Eren smiled at him.

“Want me to take you home? You look more than tipsy.”

 "I am fine.” The blond huffed and stood up, almost stumbling in his own feet, just proving Eren's point.

 “Yeah right. Want me to grab you a cab?” He asked, standing up as well.

 “Nah, it's close. Like fifteen minutes away.” He mumbled and looked over his shoulder towards the piano. Marco looked like he was about to leave as well. “'Scuse me.” He said and headed over to him.

 “Marco~” He grinned and tapped his shoulder, startling him.

 “J-Jean!” Freckles yelped, looking a bit red. “You are here?”

 “No.” Jean deadpanned. “I am not.”

 Marco huffed and stood up. “You could've told me. Well at least we can walk home together- Jean, are you listening?” He blinked, looking up at him from the notes he scattered when he surprised him.

 Jean suddenly snapped his attention back to him and stared at him for a long while. “Freckles.” He giggled like a little kid.

 “Are you okay?” He looked at him in concern.

 Jean pouted “Why would I not be? I am fine~” He said, slightly slurring his words.

 “Are you drunk?” He blinked, but then furrowed his eyebrows “Why am I even asking? We are in a bar, why would you not be.” He said, almost to himself.

 Marco yelped when he felt Jean wrapping his arms around his neck and leaning on him, almost tipping him over.  
   
 “U-uhm, Jean? C-can you let go?” Marco patted his arm, blushing slightly.

 “Naah.” Was his response as he buried his face in his chest.

 “I-I am going to go now.” He called over to Levi, who just nodded in response, snorting at the sight. “Will you let me at least put my jacket on?” He turned to Jean.

 “Fiine.” He whined as he reluctantly let go of him, frowning.

 Marco used the chance to quickly put his jacket on. Before Jean was able to latch himself onto him again, he was interrupted by Eren.

 “You forgot your coa- Oh.” He raised his eyebrows as Jean took it from him, hugging Marco again. “Uhm, I see you found someone to escort you.”

 “It's not what it looks like-” Marco tried to explain, waving his arms.

 Eren put his hand up “It's fine. He gets touchy-feely when he's drunk. Sorry for that.” He said and reached out to pull him away. “Come on, Jean-bo. Let's get you home.” He patted Jean's shoulder, but he just pulled away.

 “Oh, no. I can take him home myself. I am his roommate, Marco.” He offered the hand that was not crushed by Jean.

 “Eren.” He said and shook his hand briefly. “Well, I will be going now.” He said and waved at him as he turned around, sparing him a second glance from over his shoulder as he left.

 Marco had almost forgotten that Jean was with him when he heard him groan.

 “Marco...” He mumbled.

 “Yes?” He looked down at him.

 Jean poked his cheek “Freckles...” He snorted and Marco sighed, walking out of the bar. He clutched his sheet music with one hand, supporting Jean with the other.

 “Can't you walk on your own?” He asked after a while.

 “Duh.” Was his response, though he didn't let go.

 “You are kind of heavy.” The freckled man said, but he didn't push him away.

 “If I let go, can you promise me that you won't leave me again?” Jean looked up at him. Marco took a better look at him. His whole face was flushed and his eyes were glassy.

 “Leave you? What are you talking about?” The brunet asked, scrunching his eyebrows in confusion.

 Jean found that really adorable as he poked his cheek. “You left me for dead years ago. Marco doesn't remember~” He giggled again, hiccuping in the middle of his sentence.

 “I don't remember what?” He inquired. “Jean?” He suddenly felt the other man relax against him and fall in his arms. “Jean?” He shook him “Oh my God, are you asleep?” Jean didn't budge.

 Marco groaned, but didn't seem to mind it as he practically carried him over to their shared apartment, somehow managing to tuck him into bed without waking him up.

 He was sound asleep, Marco noted as he stood up and resisted the urge to kiss him.

 “Old habits die hard...” He muttered as he stood up.

- 

 Jean had no nightmares that night. It would've been a pleasant waking up, if he hadn't heard his phone ring in his ear the very next morning.

 It was Eren.

 “ _GET YOUR LAZY ASS OVER HERE BEFORE I DRAG YOU TO WORK MYSELF, ASSHOLE._ ” He yelled in his ear. He drowsily sat up in his bed and glanced at the clock.

  _Fuck._ Was his first thought as he immediately shot up and tried to put his head through the arm hole of his shirt.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah it took me too long to write this one. god, am i a slacking piece of shit. sorry for the wait


	6. More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while and both of them are finally settling into a comfortable routine.  
> \---  
> (Also chapter 77 spoilers)  
> (And I kept my promise JeanWouldTapThatBodt!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaah finally got around to writing again. I've mostly put it off for procrastinatory reasons. But I am set on finishing this however long it takes me!

 It had been two months since Jean had moved in with Marco. In that period of time Marco had learned a few things about him.

 One of them was that, although he didn't really look like it, he was actually a really tidy person. After he moved in and put away his stuff not even once did Marco see anything on the floor or out of place. His books were sorted by height, his clothes colour coordinated and had all of his pencils in a metal case, so he could sort them out by length.

 One time he walked in on Jean in the living room, sorting out his sheet music. He just said that Marco's life was a mess and continued sorting silently. He didn't know if he was supposed to be feeling grateful or kind of insulted. He chose the former instead and in return made him dinner, when it was supposed to be Jean's turn. Somehow, unconsciously they had created a routine. They would take turns with cooking, cleaning and taking out the trash. As if they had been together for years.

 Marco tried to keep all of his “It's so domestic!” and “We are like a married couple!” thoughts away. But he guessed that he had the same mentality as a teenage girl in love with a movie star.

 Another thing he learned about Jean was that he really loved drawing. It was clear on his face that he was really happy every time he doodled in his sketchbook. Marco wished he could peek inside, but Jean always hid it somewhere whenever he was around. So stubborn. He would always say that it was just a hobby and that his drawings were ugly, but Marco knew he was lying. One time he sneaked a peek inside when Jean wasn't around. His style so fluid and captivating. He got his attention with only one drawing. Of course he only saw one page, before he figured that it was bad to snoop around when he wasn't allowed to and put it down in the exact same spot, so he wouldn't be found out.

 He hoped that one day he would get to see the whole thing.

 For now he was just focused on not accidentally letting him self out on the whole liking ordeal. If he did he was sure that things would get uncomfortable between them and his now happy and content days will go out the window fast.

 He kept his distance. Which was a pain, because he was always either too far away and it looked like he was doing it on purpose or he was too close to him and it was hard to move away.

 Marco knew that Jean was into men of course. It was his first job to tell him after he moved in, because it seemed that it had been bothering him for a long while and he needed to get it out of his chest. But even knowing that still, he was still doubtful that Jean could ever like Marco. That was the one thing that was stopping him.

 And because of that he was even more like a school girl. He was insecure about everything he did nowadays, trying really hard to not be in his way or upset him somehow. That was probably how it was going to go until Jean found himself a boyfriend and moved out. Maybe then he would get over his feelings.

 -

 It was getting dark as Marco pulled over in the driveway from his grocery shopping trip and walked up into the apartment, muttering a quiet “I am home.” as he walked in.

 It turned out it was loud enough to be heard, because he heard Jean say “Welcome back.” With what Marco assumed was a full mouth. He blushed a little, still trying to get the domestic thoughts out of his head. He walked into the dining room and saw Jean, stuffing his face with donuts.

 Marco frowned sadly as he set the groceries down on the table. “Are those my jelly filled donuts?” He had been hoping he would get to eat them after he was done with work. Honestly they were the only things on his mind the whole day and he felt his heart break a little. Jean was eating the last one as well.

 Jean froze and gaped at him, realization hitting him. “Oh...Sorry...” He let the half eaten donut fall in back the box. He looked sheepish as he wiped his mouth from the jelly that was coating his lips.

 Marco sighed. “No...It's okay.” He couldn't find it in his strength to get angry. He was too tired and he just wanted a nap. “I will just buy new ones on Monday.” He said, trying not to feel as sad and disappointed as he really was. He walked into his room and laid down in his bed without changing out of his outside clothes. He didn't care. He just wanted to sleep.

 -

  _Marco was running on top of the buildings. He was successfully taking down titans as he surveyed his surroundings. He stopped on the rooftop of a long abandoned house as he rested for a while, catching his breath. He was_ _about_ _to continue when he heard two of his friends' voices._

  _It was a mistake. He wasn't supposed to be there. He knew that he wasn't supposed to hear that and he had to get away._

  _I_ _t all happened too fast. Reiner taking him down and straddling him. Annie fumbling with his gear,_ _slipping it off of his body and throwing it through the window into the house._

  _His screams and pleads fell on deaf ears. Even on his own. He couldn't even recognize his voice anymore as he reached out for the people he thought he could trust. He didn't recognize them either._

  _And then he suddenly thought of Jean._ _He was going to leave_ _him_ _. He was never going to see_ _him_ _again or be able to encourage him. He couldn't get to see Jean realize his full potential or-or get to actually tell Jean his feelings this time. He promised himself he would tell him after everything was finished. He was going to tell him finally after three years._

  _He didn't even feel the titan picking him up._

  _Even as he was being eaten alive his only thoughts were filled with Jean._

  _He sobbed, feeling the hot and disgusting breath of the foul thing. He reached out one last time to the people whom he once thought as friends. But to no avail. The titan bit into him and the last thing he felt was the unbearable pain and anguish. He died without even being able to defend himself._

  _-_

 Marco woke up with a start. He was panting hard and his eyes stung as if he wanted to cry, but couldn't. He couldn't exactly remember his dream, but he knew that he felt terribly lonely and afraid after it. He looked out the window and realized it was early morning. He stood up, a bit shaky on his feet as he stretched his arms. His right arm hurt as usual. It was always this way whenever he woke up.

 He felt the sudden urge to play.

 He hoped that he wouldn't annoy Jean, who was probably snoozing through all of his alarms right now. He sat down on the chair in front of his piano and let his fingers decide which tune it would be.

 Before he could register what he was doing his fingers were already playing his song. The one in the making. Maybe he felt like he could finish it this morning.

 As his eyes were staring at the piano keys vacantly he tried to remember his dream. He knew it was sad. And he knew that it was probably the same one that he had been having for the past couple of years.

 That same dream was what drove him to write the song. He felt like the only time he could remember bits of it was by playing the notes he felt. Weird right?

 It wasn't a conscious choice for him to write it. He just put down the notes that his hands were playing.

 And though that was as good as it gets he never got past this one part of the song. He always blanked out, as if he ran out of paper while printing an essay. Or maybe as if running out of words while writing the essay was more accurate.

 And he froze again. This was it. The moment he always stopped at. Maybe it was supposed to be short. Maybe that one part was the end.

 But he knew that this couldn't be the answer. That couldn't be the end. It was too short. It was too sad for it to be the end. As if cutting someone's life short in the middle of a great journey he's supposed to have.

 He didn't have much time to mull over it before he heard slamming of the front door. Dark-blonde hair peeked into the room.

 “What are you doing up so early?” Jean asked, shaking the snow out of his hair. Was it snowing outside? Marco was too focused on the song to notice.

 “I could ask you the same. Why were you out so early?” He turned in his chair.

 Jean walked up to him and handed him a bag with a donut logo on it.

 “I am sorry for eating your donuts last night.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

 “I-It's okay, really! You didn't have to!” Marco couldn't resist it though, as Jean practically shoved it in his hands. Not that he was planning on resisting.

 “Just take it. It was a shitty thing for me to do, alright? I am sorry!” He huffed and shook out of his jacket, before he froze. “Wait – Are you crying? Were you so attached to those donuts?” He blinked, startled.

 Marco wiped his eyes. “No, no. It's not about that...I just-God, I am so sorry.” He started wiping them faster, embarrassed. “Thank you for that.” He smiled at him.

 Jean bit on his lip and gave him a short and sort of awkward hug. “It's okay.” He said and cleared his throat after he pulled away.

 The freckled man chuckled. Both in surprise and in adoration. He didn't know that Jean could be so awkward. It was really cute.

 He stood up and walked over to the kitchen table, setting the donuts down and opening the box. Jean followed after him, trying to not make it obvious that he was hungry for them to as he made himself coffee.

 Marco tapped him on the shoulder and slid the box over to him. “Which ones do you want? I like the jellyfilled ones, so I am sorry, but they are taken.” He asked, smiling.

 Jean frowned. “What? No. I got them for you. Plus, I ate yours last night. I had enough.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

 They both knew that if Marco pressed further he would eventually succumb and eat. So he did.

 "And eating them all on my own would be a shame.” He said and sat down.

 Jean huffed, as if Marco had talked him into running fifty laps. “Fine. Since you insist.” He said, but the way he said it and the way he took the first donut and stuffed it into his mouth spoke of two entirely different things.

 Marco didn't know why, but he loved that side of Jean. As if it was something he was used to, because he had been dealing with it for years. Which was weird, but not something Marco was against.

 Jean stuffed another donut into his mouth before Marco had even began eating. “So why were you crying just now?” He asked, his mouth full.

 Marco reached out to take one, before Jean swallowed them all again. “I don't know. I guess I felt a little sobby at that moment.”

 “Or maybe you are just in love with those donuts.” Jean snored.

 Marco chuckled “Maybe.”

 They fell into a comfortable silence after that, just sharing the moment of enjoying a box full of some really tasty donuts.

 -

 After they were done they locked themselves up in their respective spaces again, all mutual feelings gone. Jean went into his room and Marco sat on the chair again, still wrecking his brain on how to continue the song. Nothing was coming to him as always. He sighed and threw another used up sheet on the floor.

 At one point when he stood up to stretch his muscles again he realized that Jean had been laying on the couch next to the piano. He had his sketchbook in his lap and was doodling something with a blue pencil. When Marco stopped he looked up, almost looking a bit annoyed.

“Why did you stop?” He asked, closing his sketchbook slightly, so no one would be able to see.

 Marco blinked. “Taking a short break. How long have you been sitting here?” He asked, a small smile creeping on his face. So Jean was listening to him? That somehow made him feel better. He almost forgot his bitterness.

 “Oh, okay.” The blond pouted and slid further down his throne made out of pillows. So he liked to sleep on a lot of pillows piled one on another. Just like a princess, Marco thought and chuckled.

 "Do you like it?” He asked after he had come back with a glass of water in his hands.

 Jean looked up, startled again at the sudden question. “Well, yeah. I mean, I have nothing better to do, so might as well listen.” He said and then slid even further down. “What is the name of the song?” He asked after a while.

 “Reincarnation.” Marco said without even thinking about it. “Or something.” He chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.

 Jean blinked, frowning slightly “Weird name.” He muttered and started sketching again. He seemed to not have any further questions as he just waited for him to start playing again.

 Except Marco didn't. “Hey...What do you think of the song?” He asked, picking up one of the pages with discarded sheet music on it and smoothing it out.

 The blond looked up at Marco, processing his question, before he shifted again in his seat. “I don't know...I am not a big expert on music, but I think it's nice. Really sad that's for sure. Don't know what kind of soap operas you are thinking of when playing it.” He muttered, clicking his mechanical pencil idly.

 Marco nodded, deep in thought.

 "What? Aren't you going to continue?” He asked, startling him.

 “Hm? Oh, yeah yeah, sorry. I am just kind of stuck here. I don't seem to be able to think of any way to continue it.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at his sheet music again.

 Jean opened the small cocoon he had enveloped himself in and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders like a cape as he walked over to him. Marco had to hide his tiny smile.

 “Then just start from the beginning.” He said in a "it's so obvious" voice and pulled over a chair to sit next to Marco. “Or...” He started, but seemed to struggle with getting it out as he wrapped his arms around his legs and leaned his head on his knees.

 Marco hummed “Yeah?” He subconsciously scooted closer to him.

 “Could you...You know...” He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.

 The freckled man laughed “Just say it, come on.”

 “Could you teach me how to play? Just a little bit.” He asked, pressing his legs closer to himself.

 That took him by surprise, but his smiled widened nonetheless “Sure!”

 Jean snapped his head to look up at him “Wait, really? You sure?”

 “Of course. Why not?” He was actually really happy to have an excuse to be really close to him. And the small smile on Jean's face was honestly all Marco needed to do anything.

 “Okay, so for a start you should probably learn the notes,” Marco guided him through the keys and tones.

-

Marco showed him the notes, guided Jean's hand over the keys. He lead him through a simplified version of his song. He had asked him for it and after getting over the surprise that Jean had wanted it. He hummed it along with him. If anything he knew it by heart by now and listening to someone else playing it for him was more than satisfying. He thought that after so many times of playing it he would grow numb to it, but he only found himself growing more and more santinmental over it.

 Jean seemed to be a fast learner and he picked up on it really soon. Which didn't really surprise him. After all he was one of the top ten. Wait...Top ten what? He was on the sixth place as well. But what was he even...

“Yo, Marco, you here?” Jean leaned in, waving his hand in front of his face to get his attention. He snapped back.

 “Oh, yes. Sorry.” He smiled apologetically and continued.

 -

 After they had gotten quite a bit into it Marco decided to take a break “Your hands memorize well.” He said, stretching “You could become really good with practice.”

 Jean looked down at his hands as if seeing them for the first time. He gave Marco a genuine smile “You think so?”

 His heart skipped again “Of course.”

 They settled into another comfortable silence. Somehow the quiet moments between them weren't at all awkward. They just didn't feel the need to fill up the space inbetween the meaningful things. Because everything they said was and wasn't meaningful at the same time.

 “What made you want to learn all of a sudden?” He suddenly spoke up, glancing at Jean.

 The blond stretched his feet and slumped back in his chair, all of a sudden looking times more casual and comfortable, than moments before. He dropped his guard just like that. Marco felt like he had to stay still. As if not to scare away a wild animal.

 Maybe like a tiny squirrel.

 “I was thinking,” Jean started, scratching the back of his head “That you looked really...I don't know... At peace while you were playing.” He muttered, quietly.

 The look of confusion on Marco's face made him chuckle. “I don't know, man. As if you are in your element. I just wanted to see what it's like.”

 Marco nodded with his head towards his long forgotten sketchbook. “You should know. I would imagine I look the same as you while you draw.”

 Jean frowned, as if getting ready to defend himself again. Say it's just a hobby and that he wasn't really that keen on doing it. But he soon caught himself and decided it wasn't worth it.

“I guess. But whenever I do I feel like I am always on edge. I would either be afraid that someone might walk in on me and scold me for not doing something worthwhile with my time. Or just scold myself on my own.” He sighed “Drawing's just become something I want to do, but have trouble actually doing.”

 Marco frowned. He suddenly saw Mina in front of him, looking at him with melancholic eyes, which spoke uncertainty and anxiety over their passion. He was certain he wouldn't let Mina talk like that. Neither would he let Jean.

 Before he knew it he pulled him over for a hug. Not as hesitant as Jean's earlier half hearted one. His was more firm and reassuring. A brother's hug. He felt Jean tensing, before he gave in and leaned on him.

 “You could never waste your time by doing something you love.” He said quietly, but firmly “I don't know who made you think like that, but you shouldn't worry about the end product or about the time you spent on it. Just enjoy the process of making it. As long as you love doing it, then you are good. Don't discourage yourself by other people's words. Nor your own. Just strive to get better.”

 The soft sigh Jean gave him was enough for him as he was about to let go of him, but Jean only pressed his face in Marco's shoulder further, making Marco freeze right then and there. He took a shaky breath in and hesitantly reached out to stroke Jean's hair. The boy let out a tiny sound of approval and Marco could swear he was born for this moment as he ran his fingers soothingly down Jean's long locks of hair.

 “Hey Marco?” He spoke up after a while.

 “Yeah?” He looked down at him, still caressing him.

 He didn't get a response. But what he did get was a clammy hand pressing up on his cheek to tilt his head forwards and Jean's chapped lips on his own.


End file.
